


Respite

by Suukarin



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underswap, Gen, Reapers, Reaperswap Papyrus, Underswap Papyrus, birthday gift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2016-09-08
Packaged: 2018-08-13 20:12:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7984657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suukarin/pseuds/Suukarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's still work to be done.</p>
<p>(Birthday gift for buttercupsticksntricks on tumblr)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Respite

_ I'm so tired. _

Papyrus sighs, fishing out his cigarettes from his pocket. He rarely gets a break anymore, so for now, he'll take the chance to relax. To be himself.

Well.

To be his  _ old _ self, at least.

A soft chuckle passes through his bony teeth as he bites into the cigarette filter, and he strikes a match, hearing the  _ fssh _ of the phosphorous igniting with satisfaction. He brings the match to the cigarette in his mouth, and as the end catches, he inhales deeply, like his first breath of fresh air.

Matches have their own fun element of surprise, but Papyrus wishes, as a cloud of smoke wafts from the holes in his face, that he had been able to at least keep his lighter. But that was the price he'd paid; his old self was just that now -- his  _ old self. _ And in his new life, there's no room for sentimental relics.

He figures he still has it better than the guy before him; at least Papyrus was able to keep his body.

_ Well, most of it, at least _ , he thinks, smiling wryly as he idly traces a finger along the jagged edge of his eyesocket.

If his brother knew what he'd done for him…

Papyrus takes another long, silent drag of his cigarette.

Every day it gets harder to remember the name ( _ Sans...? Yes, that sounds right _ ), but the feeling of his brother's dust on his hands will stay with him forever.

Papyrus breathes out his smoke, tasting the tar and nicotine on his breath, and grinds out his cigarette in the palm of his hand.

**_There's work to be done, Papyrus._ **

The voice slips easily into his mind, cold and unpleasantly familiar.

_ You let let me enjoy an entire cigarette _ , Papyrus chuckles, closing his one good eye.  _ How thoughtful of you. _

**_Do not dawdle._ **

He sighs, pushing himself up to his feet, and wraps a hand around his scythe.

_ Yeah, yeah, I'm on it, _ he grumbles, shouldering the weapon as the skull’s eyes glow a soft orange.

He would like the chance to reminisce, for once. But there's never any time for that.

There's work to be done.


End file.
